Christmas Cousins: Quinn, Ellis, and Amory (Southern Scandal Book 3)

by Julia McBryant

  He texts Delia and Baylor.

  Im outside. Come let me in. Like Quinn has a key to his parents’ house. Ha.

  Delia answers first. r u sure u wanna come in

  i fucking have to

  Baylor replies just after. ill be right there i have to escape anyway

  The front door flings open. His cousin Baylor stands there, blue eyes wide, shaking her head. Her long blond hair flies everywhere. “I should never have worn a dress that didn’t have super long sleeves. Never ever ever ever.”

  “Well, you look nice.” She wears some gray dress, pretty simple, floor-length, that wraps around the back and ties in the front. It shows off her tits, if you’re into that kind of thing, and she has cool jewelry layered on it. Quinn’s sister Darcy wouldn’t be caught dead in it, but Baylor looks perfect artsy old Savannah, like she’s raided her grandmother’s closet. Delia will probably look about the same.

  “No, Quinnie.” Baylor holds up her left wrist. In her own handwriting are the tattooed words, ‘Wilderness. The world itself is music.’ “I’ve managed to hide the damn thing from grandfather since my freshman fucking year in college, and the sleeve rucked up and he saw it, and you know how he and Grandmother feels about tattoos.”

  “Oh god.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So thanks for the graceful escape. Though, of course, I have directives to bring you straight to them. So.”

  Quinn sighs and offers Baylor his arm. They enter his parents’ house through the formal foyer. His grandparents hold court in one of the living rooms, a staid place filled with portraits of people long dead and polished wooden furniture most people don’t have names for, like hunt boards. Grandmother and Grandfather sit in a place of honor on the overstuffed pink brocade couch in the middle of the room, the mirrored coffee table in front of them, matching end tables on the sides. His grandmother holds the latest spawn, Baylor’s brother Keenan’s baby. Grandmother’s not that bad, all things considered.

  “Grandmother.” Quinn kisses her on the cheek. “Grandfather.” Quinn shakes his hand. “It’s good to see you both. I hope you’re well.”

  “Lovely to see you, Quinnie.” Grandmother holds out the baby. “Do you want to hold Keenan’s John-John? My arms are tired.”

  “Um, sure.” Quinn suddenly finds his arms full of sleeping baby. This one’s cute, at least, past the squishy stage and not into the squawling one yet.

  “Did you know about your cousin’s tattoo?” Grandfather fixes his eyes on Quinn.

  “Excuse me, sir?” The best way to cope with his grandfather, Quinn’s found, is to pretend he’s very, very stupid.

  “Baylor. Her tattoo. Did you know Baylor had a tattoo?”

  “Baylor has a tattoo, sir?”

  “Someone go get Delia. Quinn, go find Delia.”

  Quinn threads his way through all his relatives, mouthing hellos and how-are-yous and I’m-fines, all while holding his cousin’s sleeping baby, who he shifts onto his shoulder (babies usually like that), when he finds Delia talking to his brother Tristan on the back porch. “What the hell are you doing back here?” Quinn asks her.

  “Hiding. What the hell do you think?”

  “Grandfather’s summoning you.”

  “Why do you have Keenan’s baby?”

  “Grandmother gave it to me.”

  “What’s its name again?”

  “Damn if I remember.”

  “Okay then.”

  Luckily, Keenan’s wife, who Quinn vaguely remembers as Alyssa or something, swoops down on them and seizes said baby, whose name turns out to be John-John, as opposed to his nephew, Johnny, because that shit’s not confusing at all. Those brats rove around in a gang tormenting people and stuffing their faces with cookies.

  “Delia!” Grandfather bangs the floor with his cane. “You’re Delia, not Baylor? You two look exactly the damn same.”

  “That’s Delia, darling. The long hair and the eyes are close but Baylor’s a little shorter and has better cheekbones.”

  Delia huffs.

  “Don’t you make ugly noises at an old man. I don’t want any of your lip, girl. I swear, you three have always been the worst of the bunch. Quinn stupid as the day is long, and you girls back-talking as can be.”

  The three of them roll their eyes. Welcome to Christmas at the Rutledge household.

  “Now, did you know Baylor had this tattoo?”

  Delia blinks. “What tattoo, Grandfather? Baylor has a tattoo?”

  And round and round in circles.

  The three of them have to sit at the kids’ table. There simply isn’t room with the adults. They ignore the hellspawn and try to eat. “Remember the Christmas Quinn ate a whole bag of candy canes and they thought he had appendicitis, and just before they took him into surgery, they asked if he had eaten anything weird?” Baylor laughs. “And he was like, yeah, I ate a whole bag of candy canes?”

  Delia cracks up. “His mom was so pissed.”

  “Ugh, my mom so did not want to come here. She complained the whole drive down.” Baylor picks at her peas. “Thanks for inviting me to the party, though. That was really sweet of y’all. Then I don’t have to hang out here while she like, visits with Grandmother and Grandfather, ugh. And you said Audie’ll be there?” She perks up.

  Baylor’s friend Audie went to Carolina with her and graduated last year. He moved down here to start a master’s at Savannah School of Art. Baylor’s on year five of a biology degree, and she hasn’t seen Audie in ages. By some weird coincidence, Audie ended up dating Quinn’s bestie since kindergarten, Calhoun Chatterton. Calhoun looks like a hippie, dresses like a Southern boy, and has never, to Quinn’s knowledge, uttered the word “fuck” in his life. Somehow, they’ve loved each other to pieces since Quinn kicked a kid in the shins for calling Calhoun a crybaby.

  “Yeah,” Quinn says, “Audie’ll be there.”

  “Hope I’ll like, make some friends other than you two and him before I move down here next year for school.”

  “Oh, you will!” Delia kisses her cheek. “You’re too sweet not to.”

  Baylor makes a face. “I always get myself in trouble somehow and people end up hating me. It’s the ADHD. I never know what to say and I end up saying the exact wrong thing.”

  “Well, this is almost over. We can flee back to my house, you can meet” — Quinn uses a stage whisper — “MY BOYFRIENDS, and then we can have some actual fun.”

  “Yeah, I’m going back to Lucky’s.” Delia stabs another piece of roast.

  Lucky’s her boyfriend: the jock, the ball player, the pinball wizard with a billion whizzing machines in his basement. He has an identical twin brother, Thor, who digs up fossils in his spare time. You can tell them apart because Lucky never shuts up and Thor never talks. They’ll also be at the party.

  “Of course you’re going back to Lucky’s.” Quinn stabs his roast.

  “Why do you hate Lucky so much?”

  “Because he’s Lucky. I once saw him pee off the roof of Henry’s barn on a dare.”

  “Oh c’mon. Guys pee in public.”

  “HE WAS TRYING TO PEE ON WILLS!”

  “Okay, that’s like, totally savage?” Baylor throws Delia some side-eye.

  “See? Baylor agrees with me.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Delia huffs.

  “I do not get what you see in him. Does he have like, a massive dick or something?”

  “QUINN!” Delia smacks him. “There are like, little kids. Like, right there.”

  “Oh, they aren’t paying attention.”

  “We totally are.” His little cousin Tommy, Thomas Jr., eyeballs him. “Imma tell daddy you said that, too. And to Aunt Delia.”

  “Why is she Aunt Delia and I’m just Quinn? We’re the same damn age.”

  “And that you said ‘damn’, too.”

  Quinn sighs. “What’ll it take?”

  “Huh?”

  “I said what’ll it take, kid? Five?” He gets out his wallet.
>
  “Twenty.”

  “Hell no.”

  “Okay. Ten.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  Quinn hands his nephew a ten dollar bill. He stuffs it in his pocket gleefully. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Baylor eats some more peas.

  “Ten, Baylor, or I tell Grandfather.”

  “Number one, it’s Aunt Baylor. Number two, I dare you to say ‘shit’ in front of Grandfather. Dare you.”

  Tommy shuts the fuck up.

  They finally flee after Grandfather harangues Baylor one more time. She stuffs her suitcase in Quinn’s Stingray and they drive off into the Savannah night, promising to see Delia at the beach the next day. “Jesus fuck, I can’t believe we survived that,” Quinn says. He would untie his bow tie but he can’t manage it one-handed.

  “And yet, somehow, we survive it every year.”

  “Christ, those people are insane. How did you and me and Delia come out somewhat normal?”

  “Delia’s debatable.”

  Quinn cracks up. “Yeah. And she’s with Lucky.”

  “For the record?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Lucky does have a big dick. Delia told me.”

  “OH MY GOD, BAYLOR! I SO DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT!” Quinn wants to drop his head in his hands but he’s trying to negotiate his way off the interstate.

  “I love when you freak out, Quinnie.” She kisses him on the cheek.

  “I hate when you do that shit, Baylor! God! Totally traumatic!”

  “Oh, you knew anyway. You used to change with him in school.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t look!”

  “Like you didn’t.”

  Quinn huffs at her. God, no one outside his immediate family can push his buttons like Baylor Kirkman. No one. She bet him he couldn’t eat that entire bag of candy canes. She knows enough stories from his childhood to make him look like an idiot at any given moment. And she tells them.

  She’d better not figure out they call Ellis “Daddy.” It’s all over if she does.

  The only thing Quinn can really hold against her: she likes BDSM — a lot. But she doesn’t really care who knows, so that doesn’t help much.

  Quinn loves his cousin like his own self, but some days, he wants to strangle her and throw her in a ditch.

  They pull up to the house around six in the evening, dark already fallen. Baylor waits for Quinn to walk around and open the door for her. “Thanks, cousin,” she says, smiling, and hops out. He grabs her suitcase — god, why do girls have so much stuff? — and shows her into the house.

  “Ellis, Amory, this is Baylor.” He gestures at his cousin. “Baylor, these are my boyfriends, Ellis and Amory. Ellis is the tall one with all the hair who’s cut like a distance runner, and Amory is the shorter one cut like a distance runner.”

  “Bragger.” Baylor sticks her tongue out at Quinn. “Nice to see you both.” She bites her lip. “Ellis, I think we met once before? You might not remember?”

  Ellis nods. “I remember.”

  Oh. His coma. She came down from Columbia.

  Baylor gives them both hugs. Amory goes to get her some sweet tea, and while Ellis is saying hello, Isa comes in from the kitchen, strawberry blond hair flying behind her.

  “Oh my god! You look exactly like Quinn and Delia! Like exactly! Hi, I’m Isa? Well, Isabel Sims. I’m like besties with Quinnie and Delia? I can’t believe we’ve never met, I’ve heard so much about you!”

  “Oh my god, you’re Isa?! Quinn and Delia and Bastian have told me so much about you!”

  “Oh shit you went to Carolina with Audie! You know Bastian!”

  “Oh god.” Quinn drops his head in his hands. “Yes. You both know Bastian. We all know Bastian. As does Delia. Can we not talk about it again, please?”

  “Um, Bastian?” Ellis’s voice rises in confusion.

  “Oh, he was one of my best friends at USC, and Audie’s too? If you know Audie?” Baylor says.

  “He knows Audie. Audie’s my best friend Calhoun’s boyfriend, of course Ellis knows Audie. Can we not talk about Bastian?”

  “Time-out.” Amory does the Saved by the Bell thing and everyone cracks up. “Who the hell is Bastian?”

  “Short answer: Bastian McCarthy was this guy who came to St. Albert’s and basically slept with like everyone until he got kicked out for sleeping with our social studies teacher, then went to Carolina with Audie and Baylor. He was also Audie’s like, bestie when he was a kid or something like that. So yeah. That’s Bastard McCarthy in a nutshell.” Quinn takes a breath. He sees Baylor rolling her eyes.

  “Okay. Time-in. Here’s your tea, Baylor.” Amory hands her a glass. “Wow. You really do look like Delia and Quinn.”

  “Yes. Baylor looks exactly like me. So does Delia. We get it.”

  “It’s just so cute!” Isa hugs Baylor. “It’s so good to meet you. I’ll help you get your stuff upstairs.”

  “I can carry it up.” Amory grabs her suitcase.

  “We’ll do it.” Isa takes it from him. “We can talk.” They run up the stairs together.

  “This seems like a dangerous combination.” Amory looks after them.

  “Um, yeah.” Quinn hugs him hello. “I missed you.”

  Ellis laughs. “Those two are trouble.”

  Quinn rounds on him. “If you say anything or make it sound like we call you — what we call you — I swear to god I’ll —”

  Ellis smirks. “You’ll what?”

  “If she finds out I will never hear the end of it. Ever.”

  Isa leaves around nine, despite them all begging her to stay, Quinn perfunctorily: she’s not going back to her apartment alone, but he’s not telling anyone that. The rest of them watch Star Wars and head to bed around midnight.

  “I guess we can’t have sex.” Amory whispers it once the bedroom door’s shut.

  “No.” Quinn tosses his T-shirt in the hamper. “Why d’you think we did it last night, asshat?”

  “I kinda want to.”

  “Live with it. I’m not fucking with Baylor in the house.”

  Ellis laughs. “Neither am I. Sorry, pretty boy.”

  Amory curls up sulkily. Quinn sleeps against his back with his head on Ellis’s chest.

  Ellis lines them all up before the three of them drive to Tybee in Amory’s Cherokee. “All of you behave.”

  “We will.”

  “If I get a call from the police —”

  Amory and Quinn glance at each other. “Um, that won’t happen.”

  “No one drives.”

  “No one drives.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  “All right.”

  “All right.”

  Amory drives them out to Tybee, Baylor grilling them all the way. Quinn explains everyone to her. “Okay. This is Wills and Henry’s party. They’re identical twins with dark hair who look like fucking linebackers. Don’t worry, you won’t be able to tell them apart except Wills will be hanging on this guy with blond curls. That’s his boyfriend, Crispin. Crispin’s the sweetest man alive, except for my best friend Calhoun, who has long, straight brown hair. He never says fuck and he’s opposed to drugs and daydrinking, and talking about sex mortifies him.”

  “Even if you fucked around with him senior year.” Amory doesn’t even bother to glance back in the rearview.

  “Jesus, did you have to tell Baylor that?! Anyway. Calhoun’s dating Audie. You know Audie. Delia’s dating Lucky, one of the Jasper twins. They have curly brown hair. The other one’s Thor and they’re totally identical and also built like linebackers, but don’t worry, you won’t be able to tell them apart either except Thor never talks and Lucky won’t shut the fuck up.” He takes a breath. “Did I get everyone?”

  Amory thinks. “Audie’ll probably be stoned, which’ll piss off Calhoun. Wills will be a maniac about Christmas. Henry is sulking because his boyfriend broke up with him six months ago and he ha
sn’t gotten over it. Oh, and Isa’s fucking Henry and no one’s supposed to know about it.”

  “AMORY!” Quinn leans forward from the backseat and smacks him on the head. “What the FUCK!”

  “Oh, it’s cool, she told me,” Baylor says.

  “She told you?!”

  “Yeah, because we’re sharing a room, and she said she wouldn’t be sleeping in it.”

  “Okay then.” Quinn crosses his arms and hits the back of the seat.

  “Quinn. Put your damn seatbelt on. And no smacking the driver.” Amory still doesn’t bother looking back.

  “Wait. If she’s sleeping with Henry, and Henry’s sharing with Thor, where the fuck is Thor supposed to sleep?” Amory passes a slow-moving farm truck.

  “I don’t know. The couch. I didn’t stop to ask.”

  When they pull up under the beach house, they see everyone’s here but the Jasper twins and Delia. It looks like Christmas exploded in the house, with a giant tree, little trees, a manger and fake snow and a black Santa Claus and ornaments everywhere. Ellis would pee himself. Quinn introduces Baylor around. She spots Audie in the hot tub and runs. Quinn tries to say hey to his best friend Calhoun, but he and Wills are snarfing freaking Christmas cookies; Wills’s twin Henry and Isa are nowhere to be found. Quinn strolls out to the deck. Baylor’s squealing at Wills’s Crispin. Audie floats with a vape pen in one hand and a bottle of fucking Goldschlager in the other. Both he and Crispin wear Santa hats with their damn names scrawled on them. Someone’s strung up multicolored blinker bulbs, bad enough, but they blink at different intervals and the effect is eye-searing.

  “Lemme guess.” Quinn jams his hands in his pockets — god, it’s cold out here. He looks at Baylor. “Crispin just told you about the eleventh grade thing.” He and Wills got together in 11th grade and it’s simultaneously the cutest and most nauseating thing ever.

  “It’s so adorable!” She collapses onto Quinn.

  “Nice Santa hats.”

  “Oh my god you didn’t see?! Wills made one for all of us.” Baylor practically squeals.